


When All Other Lights Go Out

by laurus_nobilis



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Crossover, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Post-Book 14: Cold Days, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurus_nobilis/pseuds/laurus_nobilis
Summary: Bucky has more or less managed to put his life in order when he starts noticing he's being followed by a very, very determined Russian. With a sword. (A fic about Winter, trains, and hope.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is the AU where Harry can't be a Marvel fan! But, other than that tiny detail and perhaps some fudging of the timelines, I tried my best to be canon compliant for both fandoms. The title is from Fellowship of the Ring, because Sanya and Tolkien references go together, that's canon.
> 
> The warnings are there in the tags to be on the safe side, but it's just an _extremely_ vague reference in flashbacks.

Winter's nature was beautiful violence, stark clarity, the most feral needs, and animal desires and killer instinct pitted against the season of cold and death—the will and desire to _fight_ , to _live_ , even when there was no shelter, no warmth, no respite, no hope, and no help. - _Cold Days_

*

(He knows he should have died. The fall, the blood loss - why is he still alive? It's not fair. He should be dead by now, not lying on the snow broken and _awake_. He doesn't understand what happened but he wants it to end. There's a figure approaching, he realizes, and maybe it's about to end soon after all, but it's not a soldier and it's not a HYDRA goon. It's a woman, instead, all white and blue, and now he _knows_ he's delirious because she's just so goddamn beautiful that she can't be real. She kisses him and suddenly there's no pain, no fear, just the cold.

The next time he wakes up he sees Zola so of course he's been dreaming, maybe he never even left this room in the first place and the whole thing was just a fever dream all along.)

*

The guy who was following him was both really obvious and really hard to shake. It made no sense, and that made him nervous. Anyone that was good enough to keep up with him through these crowded streets had to also be good at not being seen, even someone as large as this man. So what was the deal? Was he _trying_ to be noticed? To let him know someone was onto him? There was always the chance that it was a distraction to let someone else get the drop on him, but it didn't look like this was the case. There had been plenty of time for that already. No, the guy was alone. It was a stupid idea, sending just one person to get him, but maybe they were running out of options by now. It _had_ been several months.

Bucky considered his own options. He knew this part of the city. If he took a few turns, he could find his way into small alleys and dead ends. It might not be enough to lose the guy completely, but it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario, if he had no way to avoid picking a fight at least there wouldn't be all these people around.

His plan half worked, in that he did manage to get himself into one of those alleys. Problem was, the other man had followed him into a dead end. He was pretty sure that he could climb those walls and jump to the other side if he absolutely needed to, but then he'd make an easy target, and he wasn't looking forward to getting shot while he was several feet above the ground. He turned to give a sideways glance to his follower, and was surprised to see he hadn't approached any further. The guy stood near the entrance of the alley, his hands up in what tried to be a friendly gesture but _really_ wasn't working in context.

"I'm not looking for a fight."

He spoke in English, but with a heavy Russian accent, which was bad sign number one. Bad sign number two was that he was armed - not with a gun, no, but with an actual sword, because his life could always get a little bit weirder. Bucky raised his eyebrows.

"Bullshit," he said, and disappeared up the walls.

*

Days passed, and Tall Black Russian Guy was still around. He wasn't always very obvious, but he was _there_. Bucky could see him from his tiny hole of an apartment, waiting on the sidewalk like he had all the time in the world. If Bucky slipped out of the building and tried to lose him, he still managed to reappear far too close for comfort. The job he'd found in that construction site was going to be a complete loss, of course. He couldn't show up there anymore - partly to change his routine, partly because everyone else who worked there didn't deserve to get dragged into his own problems. There'd been more than enough people getting hurt because of him to last for several lifetimes. He switched things up, moved around, changed his already erratic patterns. He even tried not returning home for a night or two. It didn't work. As much as he hated to admit it, avoiding this guy wasn't leading anywhere. It was obvious that he wasn't going to give up.

It looked like he was left with very few options. One, he'd need to pick that fight after all, and he'd rather avoid that for as long as possible. Two, just skip town entirely. That one was far preferable right now. He'd stayed too long in the same place, anyway. That always invited trouble. He returned to his apartment one more time, added a few last things to the small baggage he had prepared for times like this, and was relieved to see that he still had enough money for a train ticket _and_ some food for the trip.

Bucky knew that he didn't exactly look his best these days, but a smile and a fake accent were enough to make for a passable backpacker, so no one bothered him. He got on the train just fine and found himself an empty compartment. He even had time to eat a couple of cereal bars in peace. Maybe he had managed to catch a break after all.

The train was right around the middle of nowhere when the compartment's door opened to reveal, of course, his favorite Russian.

"You make my work very difficult, did you know that?" he said, his tone so friendly it was unnerving.

"How?" was all Bucky could reply, still in shock. " _How_ do you keep finding me?"

"I am where I need to be." It was the stupidest answer he'd ever heard, if it even counted as an answer at all. The Russian sat down in front of him, as if there was nothing strange about this situation. "And I meant that about not wanting to fight. But now we have some time to talk, at last. My name is Sanya. Nice to meet you."

Bucky glared at him.

"You know who I am."

He was just being contrary by now, but he didn't care. If all he could do was annoy this guy, so be it. He didn't want to fight either, and he was stuck here, that much was true. He might have done much more dangerous things, and he might not exactly remember everything in detail, but he _knew_ deep in his bones that he really, really didn't want to jump off a moving train.

"I do," said Sanya. "I'm here to help."

"I still don't buy that."

"It doesn't change the fact that it's true. I have information that you don't. Whatever you do with it once I tell you, that's your choice, but I have a message to pass on. This has already taken too long." He leaned back on his seat and gave Bucky a level look. "Nothing wrong with just sitting here and listening for a while, yes?"

"You'd be surprised," Bucky muttered. But he didn't elaborate. He wasn't restrained, for a change, so this didn't need to end up being awful. Let the guy talk if he wanted to. If things started going south, he could always punch him in the face before he finished speaking. He narrowed his eyes. "A message from who?"

"Not from the people you are worried about, I promise. But this might be a little hard to believe." He gave him a level look. "What do you know about the Winter Court?"

A _little_ hard to believe. Right. He knew enough about folklore to get the general idea, and it was ridiculous.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Would I go to this length just for that?" Sanya said, and as much as the whole thing still sounded incredibly stupid, Bucky had to admit that _that_ much, at least, made sense.

"You realize," he said, very slowly, "you're telling me I'm in a fairytale."

"And I'm the helpful knight, yes." He grinned at his own joke, but then had the good sense of becoming serious. "The truth is, it doesn't matter how you want to call it. I am not here to convince you to believe in faeries. But Winter has power. You know this well. So did those who gave it to you."

Bucky shook his head. Even after all that he'd seen, this was too much.

"It was science. _Mad_ science, sure, but--"

"Does it make any difference?" Sanya interrupted him. "I'm not saying there isn't a perfectly reasonable explanation about, I don't know, quantum physics or whatever it is that makes these things work. I am not an expert. But the end result is the same. There is a part of what happened to you that you don't know about yet. I can fill that in for you."

"Why?" he asked. He tried to sound suspicious - he _was_ \- but there was genuine curiosity there, too. Sanya seemed... earnest. Like it couldn't be all an act. There was something about him that made Bucky feel like he could be trusted, which was a lot to say about a guy that had been following him around for days.

"Because I'm one of the good guys," he said. "I help people. It's what I do."

"Doesn't mean you've got to help _me_."

Sanya made a thoughtful, humming sound.

"You know, I could give you a nice long speech about the kind of people who need help the most. And it would all be true," he replied. "But if you want the short version - right now, I'm just doing my job."

"So... you're working for these Winter people, then?" He wasn't sure he liked the idea.

"Oh, no, not at all. A Knight of the Cross, working for one of the Courts? Certainly not. That would risk upsetting the balance," he said. "This is a favor I'm doing for a good friend's daughter. Nothing more."

Bucky frowned, still trying to make sense of all this. He knew there was no point in trying to make people expand on half-truths. That wouldn't have helped even if he didn't have the extra problem of having no idea about what Sanya's little speech actually meant. So he focused on the only thing that was important for him.

"If I listen to what you have to say, will you _finally_ leave me alone?"

"I give you my word."

That was far more formal than he had expected, but he'd take it. At this point he'd take pretty much anything. He leaned back on his own seat, making himself comfortable. It was clear that this wasn't going to be a short story.

"Fine," he sighed. "Go wild."

*

(He's dressed in a fancy uniform that is almost familiar, but not quite, and he hates it. He can barely recognize himself, just like he doesn't know where he is, who are the people dancing around him. But then it doesn't matter anymore. The woman is there.

 _Dance with me,_ she says, and it feels like an order so he does. The part of him that can tell something's very, very wrong is screaming inside his head but he can't do anything about it.

 _What's happening?_ is all he manages to ask, and his voice sounds small, so far away.

She laughs like the rain and kisses him again and again. Her fingertips are frost on his skin, under his shirt.

 _You are my little secret._ )

*

The story, as Bucky understood it, was like this: it started with HYDRA messing with powerful stuff they didn't understand. Faeries or not, that part was believable enough. They might have become a _little_ more practical in the following decades, but this was still right during the "too insane for the Nazis" era. He wasn't sure he completely understood what happened later. All that talk about knights and queens and mantles sounded like bureaucracy from hell. It didn't matter, however, because the important part was clear. Whichever ones of the many, many things they'd done to him came from Winter, they shouldn't have been possible at all - unless someone had allowed it.

He didn't need to hear what Sanya was going to say next, he realized. A sudden feeling of dread filled him, like something that was forgotten long ago and now came rushing back. He shut his eyes tight.

"A woman," he said, before the other man could continue. "A beautiful woman, in white and blue."

There was a moment of silence, but he didn't open his eyes. Sanya's voice was soft when he spoke again.

"You remember her?"

"Yes-- maybe. I don't know. I thought she was a dream."

"No, not a dream. It was the Winter Lady," he said. Bucky did look at him, then, curious in spite of himself. "That is... the previous Winter Lady. Maeve. It's a long story, and we don't have much time, but the relevant part is that she got involved in a lot of trouble."

"Like helping HYDRA."

"For example," Sanya agreed, with a slight nod. "But not for the reasons that you and I would consider that trouble, I'm afraid. The Sidhe do not care about the affairs of humans. The problem is that this was a bid for power. It disrupted too many balances. The Winter Knight is under the Queen's rule, not hers, and there is of course a Summer Knight too. It all evens out. But you... you are something else entirely. Something _new_. They aren't very fond of new. And the part that upsets them most is that she managed to keep all of this secret. Who knows what she was even trying to do."

"That doesn't make sense." He frowned. Maybe it was weird, getting caught up in such a small detail when all of this story was pretty much insane, but sometimes it was the details that could make a lie fall under its own weight. "It's been seventy years. They must have noticed _something_."

Sanya shrugged.

"A few decades are nothing to the Courts. HYDRA might have wreaked havoc for us here in the mortal world, but whatever Maeve's long term plan was, she never managed to set it in motion. The only reason all of this came to light is that there is a new Winter Lady now. She has been trying to catch up with Maeve's work, find anything unorthodox, and-- manage the consequences."

The pause only lasted for a brief instant, but Bucky noticed it anyway. Ah. So there was the catch. He felt himself tense.

"You were going to say 'deal with it', weren't you."

"Yes," Sanya admitted. He still looked way too calm, all things considered. "And then I realised you might take it the wrong way, given that I carry a sword and all. Trust me, if I was here with ill intentions, I could have killed you many times over by now."

"So could I."

"I know. So, given we're both still alive, I think it is safe to assume that no one is killing anyone."

He had to give it to Sanya, he didn't mince words. In a strange way, it was almost reassuring. Perhaps it was just the change of pace, but it was kind of nice, being spoken to so directly. And it meant he got to make direct questions himself without worrying that he wouldn't get a proper answer.

"This new Lady, then. How is she going to 'manage' this?" he asked. "Somehow I doubt she wants to help."

"Oh, but she does," Sanya told him. "Of course, what she _can_ do is limited."

"Figured," he sighed. He should have known it was too good to be true. "Let me guess, I just get some cryptic advice."

"Not exactly. You get hope."

"... you've got to be kidding me. That's even worse."

To his credit, Sanya didn't seem at all upset by his reaction. Maybe he just heard that a lot.

"I'm not talking about the positive thought, just sit and wait and everything will work out just fine kind of nonsense," he said. "I mean _real_ hope. The kind that makes you get up in the mornings."

Bucky raised his hands to make him stop. He wasn't in the mood to hear a speech like that right now.

"Look," he said, too tired to argue, "let's assume for a moment that any of that makes sense. I get a great new hopeful outlook on life. Fine. But I'm sure they aren't doing this out of the kindness of their hearts, so, that helps Winter _how_?"

"In a complicated, roundabout way, like everything they do," Sanya replied. "The simple fact of letting you have this knowledge makes you less susceptible to the Lady's control. It might not look like much, for mortal standards, but from their point of view she is effectively giving up her power on you. No more Winter Soldier, no more imbalance."

He shook his head, and then stared at the window just so he didn't have to look at the other man. The worst part was that, well, that made sense. Of course none of them cared what _happened_ to him. They just wanted to make sure that Lady person wasn't going to use him. After all these months, all this effort, the reminder that there were still so many people who saw him as nothing but a weapon wasn't exactly the greatest feeling.

"Wish it was that simple," he muttered. "No more Winter Soldier. Yeah, right. It doesn't work like that."

Once again, Sanya had the decency to look serious.

"Not for you, no," he had to admit. "Whatever HYDRA did to you themselves is another matter. But if the Sidhe decide that you're irrelevant, well, then that's good for them and it's good for you."

"Sure. 'Cause I get _hope_." Somehow it sounded even more mean-spirited than he had intended it to, and he winced at his own words.

"Because of that, yes, and also because it's always a good idea to have Winter off your back." If Bucky's words had bothered him, he didn't show it. He sounded just as friendly as if nothing had happened. "I believe you have enough things to worry about already."

Truth was, Bucky couldn't argue with that. But he didn't want to agree, either, at least out loud, so he opted for just sulking in silence for a while. Then he frowned, remembering something that didn't sound quite right.

"You said we didn't have much time," he said. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing ominous, I assure you," Sanya replied. "Just that I only have a few more stops left before I go. I am a very busy man, you know. You aren't the only one whose lead I've been following."

"So, what? I just _happened_ to get on a train that was convenient for you?" He looked at the Russian from the corner of his eye, not quite convinced. "What if I hadn't, then?"

"Things would have worked out in a different way," Sanya told him with yet another shrug. "Besides, I am not on a deadline. Technically."

"Technically," he repeated.

"It's... a bit of an unusual line of work. But I have some flexibility."

"Right. To do thing like stalk strangers for days."

"As a matter of fact," Sanya said, as good-humored as ever, "your case isn't that far from my official work. But still, it's a good thing I can go back to routine now. I've got souls to save."

Bucky couldn't shake the distinct and somewhat unsettling feeling that he was being literal. It was time to change the subject before he started thinking too much about it.

"You sound real sure that this worked," he said.

"I came here to give you a message, and I did. Whatever happens now is out of my hands." He smiled. "But, yes, I am sure it will work."

"'Cause you've got lots of hope."

"And lots of experience," Sanya added. "I've dealt with worse sarcasm than yours, too."

"Yeah, well," he grumbled, "can't blame me for not thinking that things'll work out."

"Ah, but it's not that they _will_ work out. It's that they _can_."

"Come on, now." Bucky grinned in spite of himself. "You promised no cryptic advice."

"That was far from cryptic," Sanya argued. "I said exactly what I mean. You'll see."

"And if I don't?" he asked. Somehow, his attempt at defiance dissolved into concern.

"I still tried my best, and that is what matters."

Bucky couldn't help but stare at him. It was all very confusing. Not the words themselves, of course - those were deceptively plain. But the whole situation was just... hard to believe. It made Bucky's head hurt, the idea that a man like Sanya could say this kind of nonsense and make it sound like he believed it. Like he was honestly, deeply convinced that it was the truth. He was not a fool. He was not inexperienced. And yet he said these things and meant them.

He didn't have the the time to give it more thought, much less voice any of it, because Sanya was already standing up when the train stopped only a few moments later. 

"Well, time to go now," he said. "Good luck."

"I still don't get it," was all that Bucky managed to reply. Not a 'thank you', not a 'goodbye', just good old-fashioned confusion. "You went out of your way to find me, but you can't even make sure if it helped at all. And it's not because of Winter, either, you don't have anything to do with them."

"Not directly, no. But I told you, it's a favor for--"

"I mean it," Bucky interrupted him. "Why are you _really_ doing this?"

"Because," Sanya said, and his smile had become a lot more gentle now, "I wasn't _always_ one of the good guys."

... Oh. There it was, then. Hope. So this was what it felt like. It must have shown on his expression, too, because all of a sudden Sanya was grinning at him.

"See? I told you it would work."

"Yeah," he whispered, still a little dazed. "I guess it did."

With one last smile and a nod, Sanya stepped down from the train and disappeared into the crowd at the station.

Bucky stayed behind. A few more towns, he decided. It wasn't as if he had a set destination. He could just fall asleep and see where he woke up. It sounded... well, not like a plan, not remotely. But it did sound nice. It had been a few days since he'd had proper rest. Now that he finally wasn't worried about being followed anymore, it felt like all the tiredness he'd accumulated came crashing down on him. All that new information didn't help, either, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be taking it all so calmly once he had the time to process it. But, right this moment, he just wanted to get some sleep. And while he still couldn't say that he believed tomorrow would be better, it seemed reasonable to assume that it wouldn't get much worse.

For now, he thought, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this probably goes without saying, in the context of this fic, but: I did find the mid-credits scene hopeful instead of sad.
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, yes, I did imply that Molly told Sanya about being the Winter Lady before she told her parents. Whoops. =P)


End file.
